


Dead Boys

by Ode_et_amo



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Death in the Family (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Coming to Terms with Loss, Death in the family au, Found Family, Happy Ending, Jason Todd Kills Joker (DCU), Jason Todd is Red Robin, Jason honors his memory by adopting strays, M/M, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, Tim Drake is Batkid, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, bruce is dead in this one, fuckbuddies to pining messes?, to be fair this will be sad before it gets better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29741049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ode_et_amo/pseuds/Ode_et_amo
Summary: The tears came unbidden. The salt of them mixing with the iron tang still covering his lips. It tasted like fighting and survival. Instincts that had driven him long before he was aware of it and would probably never cease to do so.  The same instincts had kept him alive on the street, had brought him to try and steal the wheels from the batmobile, and had kept him moving when Bruce had taken his last breath.Fuck!Do people celebrate the anniversary of their dead guardians?(Or, grief is complicated and threatens to change us fundamentally, but with time things may heal)
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 44





	1. The anniversaries are short lived

**Author's Note:**

> So... I had an idea and I'm really nervous about posting it.  
> I really like what they tried to do with the Death in the family interactive movie, but almost all the endings are just depressing and I think all our favorite boy mr. Todd deserved better than that.  
> So I tried to piece together some of the options that I liked the most, adding on my own brand of drama and trauma, and because I couldn't resist: a big serving of jaydick and found family.  
> ¨  
> Fair warning this is heavy on the AU! Also while I really like Jason's design in the movie, Dick's irks me so much. So imagine them however you prefer. 
> 
> The title is shamelessly stolen from the Sam Fender song of the very same name. It just really makes me think of the Robins.

He turned on the freezing cold water and stepped under the showerhead. The blood washed off his skin in tiny droplets, creating a whirlpool of death and sin at his feet. The water mellowing out the crimson red, turning it into a pink hue that might almost be considered pretty. Jason sighed. Nothing about his life had ever been pretty.

He clenched his fists and pushed them against the cold tile, bruised white against impeccable ivory. Jason bent his head, bunching up his aching shoulders. The cold water pooled over him, drenched his hair until it hung like heavy, wet stripes around his face.

The tears came unbidden. The salt of them mixing with the iron tang still covering his lips. It tasted like fighting and survival. Instincts that had driven him long before he was aware of it and would probably never cease to do so. The same instincts had kept him alive on the street, had brought him to try and steal the wheels from the batmobile, and had kept him moving when Bruce had taken his last breath.

_Fuck!_

Do people celebrate the anniversary of their dead guardians?

Not really, but opportunities opened themselves like wildflowers. Now that _fucker’s_ blood was dripping down the drain. He’d caught him with a knife through the eye. It was almost funny, if a bit anti-climactic. Though the bastard hadn’t stopped laughing. Even when writhing in his own death the man had kept that mad grin, stretching it ever wider as realization hit him who Jason was and what he had done. And what had he done? _He’d killed the fucking Joker._

He had lied to Superman, to Barbara, to Dick. He had lied to Alfred. That had been the hardest part. Not only had Alfred always been good at seeing through bullshit, but Jason also respected the old man. He had treated him civilly, with a politeness that bordered on affectionate. It had almost hurt, having to lie to the old man, but Jason knew this was for the best. Jason was an excellent liar and old habits die hard. To his defense: for most of his life, Jason had had to lie in order to survive.

He’d failed Bruce. In Bosnia Bruce made him promise not to seek revenge. Not to kill the Joker because of Bruce’s death. Jason had promised. He had meant to keep it. The grief had been too powerful in the beginning, numbing any other sensation, but as it settled it grew into resentment and Jason became angry. Angry at himself for having chased after the Joker in the first place. Angry at Bruce for dying. Angry at Dick for leaving. Angry at the Joker. Always, always so fucking angry at the Joker. But the Joker was no more.

A part of Jason had died with Bruce, the part where he harbored hope for a better future, a better life. But with the Joker, Jason had killed Robin. He didn’t deserve that title anymore. It wasn’t the person Bruce had trained him to be, and he could respect Dick’s dead mother enough to lay it to rest.

Jason washed the last of the soap from his skin before he stepped out of the shower and wired a black towel around his shoulders. He gave up a heavy sigh and sat down on the bench in the changing room. There was his locker, the only one in use, off to the side from what had used to be Bruce’s one. And Dick’s forever stuck between them.

The cut under his eye had scarred over and he could never resist poking at a scab. Soon enough he had peeled away some of the healed skin and a trickle of red made its way down his cheek.

With another heavy sigh Jason got dressed and made his way up from the cave. He took the stairs rather than the lift, as he had yet to figure out an excuse for his sudden disappearance that might get Alfred off his case. Not that Alfred paid as much attention anymore. Bruce’s death had really broken him, not that the man would ever allow it to show. He kept on working, holding his head high even when it seemed he’d rather sink to the floor. But Alfred was made of sterner stuff than that, Bruce had been too. Dick not so much, but who was Jason to slander him for wanting to escape his grief. Bruce had been more of a dad to Dick than he had ever been to Jason. Jason was… Well, he’d learnt to cut his losses early.

He found Alfred in the kitchen – _where else? –_ preparing two plates of lasagna. Alfred had rarely eaten with them when Bruce was still alive, but now that he was gone he seemed unwilling to let Jason eat his meals alone, and maybe he didn’t want to be alone himself either? Jason was secretly grateful, not that he had an appetite at the moment.

As he reached the doorway he saw a version himself move through the kitchen to throw his arms around Alfred, letting himself weep into the back of that black suit-jacket. Of course Alfred wouldn’t deny him, but neither were people for sentimentality. Jason pictured it would have been more awkward than comforting. So he didn’t move from his spot.

“Ah, there you are” Alfred said and Jason was shaken out of his musings. “I was just about to go looking for you.”

“I was just looking over some files in the cave” Jason murmured, walking up to the kitchen counter to grab his plate and make his way over to the kitchen table by the windows.

“Do try and take some breaks. You spend more time in the cave than in school these days.” Alfred said and sat down opposite Jason. 

“So?” Jason asked, quirking an eyebrow, suddenly seeing the reflection of his pale face in the dark windowpane behind Alfred’s shoulder. Saw the way his own blood formed a perfect teardrop on his cheek in the shape of one of those tattoos you’d see on people who were in and out of Blackgate. A tear for the first life taken.

Alfred sighed. “Bruce wouldn’t have wanted…”

“Bruce isn’t here to want things anymore!”

Jason bristled, incapable of keeping his conflicting emotions together anymore. The guilt was like a wildfire and it spread through his blood with the raging promise of disaster. He would bear it though. He had to.

“I’m sorry” Jason murmured at the thinning of Alfred’s lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“You’re right, Master Jason.” Alfred said, eyes turning blank as the old man stared down at the plate in front of him. “Bruce isn’t here, but you are.”

_Don’t let the sacrifice go to waste._

“I’ll eat my food upstairs” Jason said, vaguely pointing towards the second floor.

_I understand. I’ll get out of your hair._

“Master Jason” Alfred sighed, but he didn’t move to stop him either.

It wasn’t that Alfred didn’t care, nor that Jason didn’t care about Alfred in turn, but they were just two people stuck together by circumstance because of someone else’s choice. Had been kinda the same way with Catherine, come to think of it. Only she had been more of a mother to him than his biological mother had. Jason had never known his grandparents, but if he were to ever picture them, the only face to appear would be Alfred’s.

Jason dutifully took the plate of food with him. Whether he was hungry or not didn’t much matter, food wasn’t to go to waste. So he ate it by his desk, burrowed under a heavy quilt that couldn’t keep the chill from his back. He knew it was the shock finally settling in. Had felt the same shakes when Alfred had finally managed to locate him in Bosnia exactly a year back and fetched him at the local police station. Realization that something had taken place that could not be undone. The human mind locking down on itself.

When Alfred knocked to retrieve Jason’s dishes a few hours later, Jason was curled in on himself, staring into the middle distance. He didn’t regret it. Not really. Would do it again if it meant keeping that sick fucker from ever hurting anyone else again. But what did it make Jason? Where would he go from here?

Alfred seemed to think he had caught a fever and soon had him swallow down some aspirins and sent him to bed. By the time Jason was tucked in under the covers, even he was convinced that he was getting sick. Morally so.

Before Alfred could leave or the pills could pull him under, Jason grabbed a light hold of Alfred’s black sleeve. It stopped the butler short, and he leaned over with a smile that was almost gentle to push the hair out of Jason’s forehead.

“Can’t be Robin no more.” Jason murmured, words coming out sluggish, tongue thick like molasses.

“We’ll figure something out when you feel better” Alfred promised.

_ _ _ _

It never took long for rumor to spread and once Gotham’s underworld figured out that the prince of crime was gone for good, leaving behind an empty spot up for grabbing, all hell broke loose.

With Alfred’s help Jason had managed to figure out his new costume with relative ease, but time nibbling at their heels. The design kept some of the brash Robin colors but with a new added black cowl covering the upper half of his face. It had however made Alfred point out that he looked like some vigilante version of a pirate. _So sue him for enjoying Treasure Island._

Big Blue had offered to help with the sudden boost of crime activity in the city, but Jason knew how reluctant Batman had been to receive Superman’s help and well, family business was better kept private anyway.

Barbara mostly operated from the Watchtower these days. Oracle doing god’s work in a place god had long since abandoned. Nightwing was a different matter entirely. After Bruce’s funeral he had more or less grabbed a bag of clothes and fled the scene. At first they had thought he had went back to the Titans, as he had been prone to do in the past, but none of the Titans had seen or heard from him. Eventually Barbara had found footage of a Nightwing-like figure moving over Bludhaven’s city skyline. That was how they found out he was still living the good ole’ hero turned martyr life.

“Who would dare make a move against the Joker?” Dick had wanted to know as soon as the news had reached him and he found his way back to the cave.

“Not to use a trivial term,” Barbara had remarked from her wheelchair in front of the batcomputer, where she had set up camp for the night. In order to solve this mystery she had decided she would need more computer-power than her own system could provide her with yet. “But this seems to have been a crime of passion. The knife to the eye? It’s a precise move but not one you plan.”

Jason sat curled up in Batman’s designated chair, while Dick stood leaning against the computer console, discussing the case with Barbara. He looked skinnier than Jason remembered him to be, held himself tightly. Almost guarded. Another thing Jason didn’t remember from before. Dick had always been open, all smiles after all. If Jason had cared, he would have found it disheartening.

“Any inputs, little wing?” Dick wondered, eventually seeming to remember Jason’s presence. Once he’d managed to tear his eyes away from his first ex-girlfriend.

Jason shook his head slightly, trying not to take offense at the nickname even as it felt like it came less of a place of fondness but rather a place of power. It was belittling.

“Are we heading out or not?”

“If there’s a new player…” Barbara began sensibly, but was soon interrupted by Dick.

“We can deal with that later. The city is tearing apart as is”

Barbara shook her head in annoyance, but avoided making any further comments apart from wishing them good luck out there.

“It’s been a while, huh?” Nightwing shouted as he soared through the skyline a couple of meters ahead of Jason. “I like the new suit by the way. Very avant-garde”

“Do you even know what that word means?”

“You were always the one blessed with book-smarts” Dick hummed like he knew Jason. Like they had known each other since they were kids or something. Like Dick hadn’t run off to his precious Titans as soon as Jason entered the picture, only coming around once in a full-moon to yell at Bruce over something and then leaving again.

Jason’s anger had always been a problem according to every goddamn adult Jason had met in his life. Everyone wanted to either punish him for it or tame it. Even Bruce. Batman had wanted to hone it, helping Jason develop all these skills that had slowly turned him lethal and now Bruce was gone and Jason was left alone to rear those worst impulses in. So he pushed it down, and down, and down, until it had all become a can of explosive gas. Then he pushed it down some more.

He bit his tongue in lieu of an answer.

“Seriously though, what are you calling yourself these days?” Dick asked as he came to a stop on a tall roof-top overlooking most of the old factory districts.

Jason landed beside him, not as gracefully of course. He shrugged. “Don’t know. Hood?”

“A little unimaginative, don’t you think?” Dick wondered, sending a radiating smile his way. It looked effortlessly, but Jason had studied his predecessor enough to know where the strain was. Right there, in the tick underneath his eyes, barely visible under the mask but still very much present.

“Everyone can’t steal their names from Kryptonian legends” Jason muttered.

“Ouch.” Dick said, placing a hand on his chest in feigned hurt. “You’re really coming for me tonight”

Jason grit his teeth. “Do you ever shut up?”

Dick looked ready to protest, but in the end he just sighed. “Fine.”

A few moments later two rivaling gangs clashed on the street and they were both swept into the fight.

_ _ _ _

By the time they made it back to the cave, Jason had decided that it wouldn’t hurt to have firearms in his get-up. He’d seen it enough on the street ever since he was no more than hip-high. Men and women who felt safer having a gun at hand. But for everyone getting a gun, another would feel unsafe and soon follow and the trend spiraled and more and more fire-arms would be in circulation. Fists didn’t do it anymore. The only way to survive these all-out gang wars would be to fight on their terms, but doing it better. Jason needed to beat his own shadow.

Over the year since Bruce’s death and Dick’s prolonged absence – self-imposed exile, if you asked Jason – things had changed. Strategies had to change in order to keep up. Jason had changed. For one he had hit a growth spurt and he was now gaining inches on Dick. In fact, as he came to realize when they both headed to the showers, he’d grown past the golden boy. It was a victory for all of seven minutes, until Dick had peeled himself out of his suit and Jason could see all the new scars and bruises. Even more concerning, he could see Dick’s ribs.

Now Jason knew you didn’t comment on another man’s naked body, not unless you wanted the living shit kicked out of you, but he couldn’t help the sharp intake of air, because that shit didn’t look good.

“What is it?” Dick asked, blue imploring eyes immediately seeking out Jason’s. Concern burning at the edge. “Are you hurt?”

“No” Jason shook his head, and peeled himself out of the last of his own uniform and hurried into the shower and under the spray of water. It was quick work getting clean from the sweat and by the time Dick was entering, Jason was already heading out.

“So you’re turning eighteen in a couple of months, right?” Dick shouted from within the shower as Jason pulled a pair of sweatpants on. “You have any big plans?” 

_Oh yeah! Gonna wipe the scums from these streets for good._

“Nah, I don’t know”

“Could go out.” Dick suggested. “You know, we could celebrate with the Titans or something, you’re an honoree member after all”

“Thanks, but I don’t need your hand-me-downs” Jason growled, pulling on a t-shirt and making his way out of the changing room, grabbing an encrypted lap-top as he passed by the batcomputer. Then he headed up to his room.

It was a long night of research, but it garnered results. In the weeks to come he had bought a set of military-level fire-arms and with persistent training, he honed his skills to perfection. Alfred’s disappointment was tangible, but he didn’t say a word about it. Mostly since it would pretty much make him a hypocrite. After all, who was teaching Jason to handle his newly acquired weapons?


	2. Sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had taken Barbara a little too long for her own liking to realize that the footage from the diner had been looped. A few hours, and too much coffee, later she had a three seconds glimpse of a familiar face playing on repeat on the screen.   
> It was Jason. There was no doubt about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Ghost by Halsey. 
> 
> Warning for gun-violence, not too explicit though. 
> 
> Yeah, and all of Two-Face's line are more or less directly copied from the movie.

Jason swept through the night like a revenging shadow. Two guns strapped at his waist like a gun-slinger as the black cape swirled around his figure. He had been at it for roughly a month, this upgraded version of Robin and the news had, despite the black cowl, dubbed him Red Robin. Maybe it was due to the fact that he only appeared in the crime reports, a splatter of blood being his business card these days. He wasn’t necessarily proud of it, but needs must and all that. 

He landed in a dark alleyway, when Oracle’s voice suddenly sparked up in his ear.

“I still think the guns are excessive” she said.

Jason groaned. At this point he didn’t know how many times they had had this exact argument. It had come to the point where Barbara would just leave these snide remarks every other patrol for Jason to swim in the guilt of it.

“It’s just not what Batman…”

“B’s not here anymore.” Jason interrupted quickly, tone taking on a deadly sharpness that the mere mention of Bruce’s name brought out these days. “Things have changed. We have to adapt.”

“So you keep saying” Oracle muttered in his ear.

“Still you keep complaining” Jason bit back, before turning off his comm., not interested in keeping the argument going any longer.

He moved quickly down the alley, soon running into the drug-dealer he’d been tailing the past hour. In a swift move he had the man dangling upside down in a rope tied up in the fire-escape of one of the old buildings. It was easy to get the man to talk then. Who did he sell to? Who provided him with the drugs? Was it one of the mafias or one of the rogue gangs? New strands?

To use mobster slang, the man practically sang. Selling out the people he was working for with no hesitation. Like it would actually help him. It was cute (except the idiot sold drugs to kids). Jason cut the rope and watched the man fall, hearing his tortured screaming.

Jason was a one man army now, where Bruce had been a one man task-force. He re-holstered his gun before he disappeared into the shadows. Tearing through the city, taking out rapists and abusers as he went.

As the hours neared dawn Jason eventually made his way back to the batcave. Alfred stood waiting for him, a tray of tea set down on the work-bench. Jason throw down the gauntlets beside it before he reached out to take a cup. It was perfectly tempered and Jason had no idea how the old man did it.

“Thanks, Alfred” Jason nodded to the butler after taking a sip.

“Do we have any new leads on that strand of methamphetamine?”

“Yes, we do” Jason answered, checking over his guns with somewhat practiced ease.

Alfred raised his eyebrows. “And is this information for you to know and me to lie sleepless over?”

“Something like that” Jason said, grinning effortlessly up at the butler.

At this point he had grown accustomed to people’s disapproval, but faced with the furrow in Alfred’s brow he hesitated.

“Your secrecy bothers me” Alfred said eventually.

Jason could almost laugh. “Like Bruce didn’t have secrets”

There was something hard in Alfred’s eyes when he picked up Jason’s empty cup and placed it on the tray to take with him upstairs.

“Not that he kept from me”

_ _ _ _

Jason had finally taken out the meth-lab he’d been working on dismantling for a month and the news were already reporting on it the following morning. There had been casualties, too many of them or not nearly enough, depending on your view-point. Both Barbara and Alfred argued for the former. And they were loud about it.

But the organization had connections to Black Mask and Jason would be damned if he didn’t take that man out. Black Mask had earned a lot on Joker’s disappearance, gaining territory and power. He would need to find a way to erase him, along with all the other freaks who thought they could rule Gotham’s streets. The people of Gotham deserved a break, and anyway Jason had always preferred Machiavelli over Kant. 

In a better world he would be the moral argument coexisting with Bruce’s no killing rule, enhancing it or weakening it, but now Jason was the only argument left.

His shoulder had popped out of its joint after he had taken a bad fall, therefor Jason found himself somewhat morose as he sat watching the news while eating his breakfast. A stack of homework piled up beside him, courtesy of Alfred. It wouldn’t take him long to do it if only he got started, but his thoughts kept wandering. Or spiraling, as Barbara would put it.

He still had nightmares about it. About Joker beating him up with a crowbar. About the explosion, and then about Bruce’s limp body dying in his arms. Sometimes Jason dreamt that it wasn’t Bruce dying but him and every time he woke up, heart beating in his chest, grateful that he was still alive. Jason hated himself for it. Hated the relief, because with it always came guilt. Guilt that he was alive instead of Bruce. Jason was expendable, Bruce hadn’t been. Gotham needed him. W.E needed him (even if it wasn’t always obvious), his family needed him. No one needed Jason. But he had always found a way to cling to life, dig his nails in and crawl back to the surface, still… Maybe it should have been him.

Jason propelled himself up from the couch and to the closest bathroom where he emptied his stomach. The breakfast came up fast, bringing a sour taste to his mouth, coating his teeth.

Alfred found him sprawled out on the cold, black tiles a short moment later. Jason felt the cool press of Alfred’s hand against his forehead, the touch soothing but too gentle.

“Are you coming down with something, sir?”

Jason only groaned in response and shook his head. Alfred patted him on the back before helping him back to his feet. It was a somewhat staggering journey that the two of them made back to the living room. Jason felt his legs shake beneath him as he sank down on the couch. Alfred soon handed him a glass of water, and Jason spit the first mouthful out in the cereal bowl to clear the taste before he drank the rest, receiving a disapproving glance from Alfred. But the butler didn’t comment, instead he murmured thoughtfully after a moment:

“You keep having these… episodes. Are you sure you don’t want to see someone about it. If it’s physical it can probably be easily fixed. If it’s psychological…”

“I’m not a nutcase, Al” Jason interrupted, suddenly vexed. _He wasn’t crazy_. He couldn’t be, or he’d be no better than the fucking Joker.

“I wasn’t implying that” Alfred soothed. “I merely think that it might do you some good to talk with someone about your trauma”

“And tell them what? That I let Batman die because I, Robin, was a fucking idiot who went off on my own?” Jason snarled. “Fuck it! You know I can’t talk to anyone, no one can know”

Alfred’s sympathetic look bordered on pitying. “You can always talk to me”

“That’s good and all, Al, but I know what I need to do”

“And what is that?”

“Save Gotham from itself”

“Well, in that case” Alfred huffed, mildly annoyed. “You’ll need all your strength, therefore I suggest you don’t go out on patrol tonight”

Jason rose from his seat, unintentionally trying to impose with his height. “Are you benching me?”

Alfred however was undeterred. After all, he had butted heads with Batman himself, and more often than not come out the victor.

“As your legal guardian,” Alfred began, and Jason could see the number of days before he turned eighteen flash before his eyes. “I think you should sit this one out.”

Jason huffed, but sat back down again. “Fine”

_ _ _ _

It had taken Barbara a little too long for her own liking to realize that the footage from the diner had been looped. After Batman’s death it seemed that Joker had somewhat lost his purpose. The mindless, violent crimes suddenly ceased one day and when they put him in Arkham he stayed there, receiving rehabilitations. Then almost a year later he was released, seemingly changed. Barbara didn’t trust that shit though, and had taken it upon herself to monitor his movements. 

Then on the anniversary of Bruce’s death, roughly two months ago, he had walked into a diner in lower Gotham only to be carried out on a stretcher not even an hour later. Between working her own cases and cleaning up Jason’s messes, she had looked into the case. She attributed it to a lack of time that she had missed the video-loop.

There hadn’t been any witness statements, mostly due to fear she guessed. Because if you were crazy enough to take the Joker out, what would ever stop you from cleaning up the traces, no matter the cost?

Now she was trying to decrypt the loop. Even if those minutes wherein the deed was committed was erased, she hoped there would still be traces of something. What this something was she didn’t yet know, but she would do whatever she could to find it.

A few hours, and too much coffee, later she had a three seconds glimpse of a familiar face playing on repeat on the screen.

It was Jason. There was no doubt about it.

The first thing flashing through her head was not about why he had done it or how, but rather: _why didn’t he tell us?_

The second thing she did was to call Dick.

_ _ _ _

Just because he was banned from patrol, didn’t mean Jason couldn’t be down in the cave. Now that he had gotten half-way through the homework, and grown bored with it, he thought he would look into some case-files.

Jason had never understood how Bruce had managed to spend hours upon hours doing this, sitting unmoving in front of the batcomputer in the damp cold. Now he found it almost comforting. Here, down in the cave, Bruce always felt the most present. This was who he had been after all. Batman, despite being considered an urban myth by most people outside of Gotham, was realer than Bruce Wayne had ever been.

The peace lasted all of forty minutes, then he heard the low rumble of a motor as a motorcycle rode into the garage. He recognized Dick’s bike before he fully registered the man himself. Jason watched as Dick rose from the bike and in a few quick strides he was up on the level where Jason was seated. He was dressed in civilians, shoulders tense and jaw clenched.

“What do you want?” Jason bit out, squaring up for a potential fight. He and Dick might not be close, but he could read the older man’s body language well enough.

Dick’s eyes had always been deceptive. Despite the blue of them, there had always been fire in them. Burning hot with fury, threatening to consume everything in their path. Too intense.

“You killed him” Dick said without preamble, voice cold and unforgiving.

Jason froze. Pictures of Bruce’s burnt face flashing before his eyes, the almost smile, the _I love you son._

Dick was leaning into his space, teeth bared. “You killed the Joker”

And suddenly it was as if the world fast-forward. Jason pushed out of the seat until he was nose to nose with Dick, using the few inches he had on him to make him step back.

“So what?” Jason growled.

Dick didn’t step down, and Jason might have the height, but Dick was still the stronger of the two. His shoulders wide and muscles imposing, despite the apparent weight-loss over the past year. Still Dick had never been the kind of person who used his strength to intimidate people. His humility another thing Jason could never match up to.

“Why?”

“You really need to ask that?” Jason wondered, mouth falling open for a short moment before he steeled himself against the stupidity of the statement. “He crippled your girlfriend. He took Bruce from us!”

Dick gritted his teeth. “I know”

“Then don’t act so surprised. He had it coming.”

“Doesn’t give you the right to play judge, jury and executioner!” Dick practically shouted.

“No one else bloody well would!” Jason was breathing hard, chest heaving as his hands shook with the growing rage. If Dick didn’t back down soon, Jason would hit him. Consequences be damned. “Why so protective of the Joker all of a sudden?”

Dick looked furious, and for a moment Jason was certain that Dick would be the one to hit first. Then to his surprise, Dick sighed and took a step back. Jason watched as the older – not that he was older by much, roughly three years – raked his fingers through his jet black hair. Now, when the immediate threat had dissipated Jason actually got the opportunity to observe him closer. Dick looked gaunt, stretched out and there were deep circles under his eyes. He looked tired. Beneath the collar of the jacket he wore, Jason saw an off-purple color smudged over his skin in the shape of fingerprints. Looking even closer, Jason could see the discoloration around his eyes, cleverly covered up with makeup.

It seemed that the former Robin’s relationship with good ole’ Blud had turned decidedly abusive.

“I thought about it too, you know” Dick said eventually, turning his gaze away, taking in the batcave. 

Jason snorted. “But what? Too perfect to get your hands dirty?”

“Fuck you!” Dick growled. “Just because you go around killing people doesn’t mean you’re actually bringing any justice to anyone. All you do is create a divide. If the person who is supposed to save people from the bad guys is just as unpredictable…”

Jason was boiling. “I actually deal with the problems Bruce was too chicken…”

“It wasn’t about bravery!” Dick said. “It was about restraint. What do you think would have happened if he crossed that line?”

“Maybe he wouldn’t be dead”

“You’ll never understand” Dick said, and there was something akin to pain in his eyes. It only made Jason angrier. “You don’t deserve his legacy.”

And that was it. Jason’s fist connected solidly with Dick’s cheek. The older took a tumbling step back, but Jason was already leaping at him and they both went tumbling to the ground. Jason got in another few hits, before Dick had them rolled around and was pinning Jason down with his thighs. Dick’s grabbed hold of Jason’s wrist and pinned them over his head. Jason writhed and spat, but Dick didn’t relent his hold.

“I don’t wanna fight you” Dick panted, blood dropping from his nose.

Jason snarled, but before he could say anything, Alfred had come downstairs into the cave. A startled gasp falling from the butler’s lips as he took in the sight of them, bruised and bloody. Tethering at the edge of their sanities.

“What on god’s good earth do you think the two of you are doing?”

At Alfred’s reproaching tone Dick shot to his feet. Jason was tempted to swipe his feet away under him to send him careening back to the floor, but he could feel Alfred’s disapproving gaze already turned on him so refrained from it.

Dick was straightening his clothes, brushing imaginary dust from them. “He killed the Joker”

“I know” Alfred said, not moving a single facial muscle.

“You knew?” Dick and Jason both exclaimed.

“Of course I did”

“How?” Jason wanted to know, while Dick asked: “And you didn’t say anything?”

Alfred sighed. “Firstly, just because you lie to me, Master Jason, doesn’t mean I need to believe you. And secondly, it wasn’t my story to tell. Now, let me look at your nose, Master Dick.”

Dutifully, Dick moved over to Alfred so that the butler could pat the blood away with his handkerchief. In the meantime Jason had moved back over to the batcomputer, intent on getting back to his work.

“It’s not broken, at least” Alfred comforted, and took a step back. “How about we have a proper conversation about _this_ over tea?”

Dick shook his head firmly. “Sorry, Al, I can’t. I just can’t with this right now.”

Jason huffed a breath, having moved back to the batcomputer intent on getting back to his work. Dick sent him a small glare. So this conversation wasn’t over then. Fine, Jason could play that game too.

“So you’re just gonna run away like you always do?”

“Fuck you!” Dick spat. “You don’t know anything!”

“I lost him too! We all fucking did! So stop playing the fucking martyr and…”

“What, so I can be like you? Murdering people to ease my consciousness?”

“That’s quite enough!” Alfred raised his voice. His face was thunderous, more furious than Jason had ever seen it. Alfred never lost his temper, and watching him now? Honestly, it was terrifying. Jason shut up quickly, turning his gaze to his white-knuckled fists where they rested in his lap.

He could hear Dick’s sigh of an apology, before the man went up to Alfred and murmured something. A moment later Jason could hear the revving of Dick’s bike and soon enough his predecessor was gone.

Jason glanced up at Alfred, only to be met by the butler’s displeased thinning of the lips.

“I’m sorry, Alfred” Jason murmured.

“Well, it isn’t me you should apologize to.” Alfred said stiffly.

_The sass of disapproval._

Jason sighed. “He always acts like he’s so fucking morally pure.”

Alfred quirked his lips only slightly. “I think you’re missing something in your analysis of him.”

A moment later Alfred had managed to convince him to come back up to the manor, and on their way up in the elevator, Jason murmured.

“Does it make me a monster? For killing him?”

Alfred looked taken aback for a moment, then he slowly shook his head. “Maybe some people are beyond saving.”

“Am I?”

There was another long moment before Alfred, almost hesitatingly, asked: “What would you need saving from?”

“I’m angry all the fucking time, Al. One day I’m gonna snap” Jason gritted his teeth. “More than I already have, I guess.”

“Then I will take responsibility for it too.” Alfred sighed.

“No, that’s not what I’m asking…”

“I taught you how to use those guns”

“Because you thought I would injure myself otherwise” Jason said, quirking his lips.

Alfred returned the half smile, something sad passing over his face and they were both silent for the rest of the evening.

_ _ _ _

Next time he went on patrol he took a detour to Oracle’s tower. He found her high-lighting a casefile of some sort and dropped in silently behind her. Barbara didn’t even lift her head to acknowledge him.

“I wondered when you would show up”

“You told him.” Jason said accusingly, lowering his voice into a Batman-esque growl.

Barbara was of course undeterred. “Well, since you didn’t tell him, or me for that matter, I felt obligated to”

“So fucking nosy all the time, aren’t you Barbie?” Jason snarled.

“Enough” Barbara said, finally looking up and her eyes were cold. “I will not stand for you slandering me, are we clear on that? Anyway… I haven’t stopped you, have I?”

“Not for lack of trying” Jason muttered.

“Because I should have!” Barbara raised her voice in a way Jason hadn’t heard since she had broken up with Dick. The emotions were raw on her face and for a short moment Jason felt almost guilty. “You’re seventeen! You should think about stuff like collage applications and worry about not embarrassing yourself in front of your high school crush. Not… not this!”

Barbara gestured vaguely up and down his body, and the action was far from appraising. What she saw was the mostly red suit with the black cowl and the two belts crossed over his chest with ammo. A kid dressing up for Halloween. 

Jason felt the irrational urge to wrap himself up in his cape and hide away from her judging gaze. It did nothing but anger him, and whenever anger took route it seemed to cement his conviction further.

“I’m not a normal kid.” Jason said and swept out of the room without another word. Behind him he could hear Barbara muttering about his inheriting Batman’s dramatics. 

_ _ _ _

He’d caught onto Two-Face eventually, after having blown up Black Mask’s office (unfortunately, the man had gotten away) and taken out a few more obscure rouges, such as the Riddler and Cheetah. The showdown occurred in a mall, circumstances not being ideal since there were still a lot of civilians milling about.

Two-Face had brought a band of henchmen, because of course he had. He was the kingpin, didn’t need to do the dirty work for himself. Jason leapt through the air, trying to avoid the bullets cascading over him. A few well-aimed shots and he took two of them down.

He approached Two-Face with growing confidence, but then the bastard pulled a machine gun on him. Jason took cover by an advertisement pillar, only realizing his miscalculation too late, when suddenly a small hand-grenade flew through the air and landed behind him. Jason dove forwards, but it was too late. The explosion caused the pillar to disrupt and fall over him. He wasn’t fast enough and got squashed beneath it.

Jason grunted in pain, as he listened to the tapping of heals move over the cold, cement floor. Suddenly Two-Face was stood bent over him, suit split with one side being black and the other white. He held the machine gun pointed to Jason’s head.

“Look at you” Two-Face snarled. “You used to fly with the Bat, used to stand for something”

Jason gritted his teeth and bowed his head, this wasn’t the time for sudden movements, but he needed to get back on his face fast. Still, Jason didn’t move.

Two-Face continued his drawling. “Now you’re like a coin on its edge, you’re nothing. Gotham fears you. Normally I would kill you, but you can’t kill what’s already dead inside. The worst I could do is let you live with what you are.”

Jason clenched his hands against the concrete floor, images passing through his mind’s eye. The shots he’d taken, the people he had judged, the Joker’s laughing face. Dick’s anger, Barbara’s resentment, Alfred’s sad eyes. Bruce would have been so disappointed in him. Around them people were covering in fear, hidden behind whatever thing they fought capable of protecting them from stray bullets. Remembering the poster on the pillar currently crushing him, he’d seen it before it fell over. Bruce’s gentle smile as he stood with a proud hand on Dick’s shoulder. _The Wayne foundation._ Fucking salvation.

“Perfect failure” Two-Face growled lowly, schadenfreude spilling from his tone, making the words lilt in some form of sadistic humor. “Now that’s worse than death. Live with that for the rest of your miserable life. Shall we let fate decide however long that will be?”

Jason watched as Two-Face pulled his goddamn coin out of the pocket of the black pant leg. He flicked the coin into the air, Jason had no idea what it landed on but assumed it didn’t matter. He could see it in Two-Face’s eyes that the man had already made up his mind, and it didn’t bear good news for Jason. 

“Fate wants me to do some good today” Two-Face said, the corner of his lips (where he still had them) curved into a smirk. “I’ll start by saving Gotham city from the mass-murderer Red Robin. Your verdict: guilty. My judgement: death”

Jason awaited the inevitable, when suddenly every muscle in Two-Face’s body seemed to spasm up and he sunk to the floor in an uncoordinated heap. Behind him stood a boy, no older than twelve. Yet black hair and blue eyes. He reminded Jason of Dick for a brief moment, except he was small and scrawny and shaking with anxiety and terror. In his outstretched hand he held a cattle prod. Wherever he had gotten it from, Jason had no clue.

Jason didn’t waste a second in dragging himself out from beneath the pillar, pulling himself back to his feet. He hovered over Two-Face’s prone body, directing the mussel of his handgun towards the scumbag’s chest.

“Burn in hell Two-Face” Jason said, but before he could pull the trigger the boy with the cattle prod had thrown himself in front of Two-Face’s body, right in front of Jason’s gun. The people still hiding around them, watching them as if it was a gladiator show, gasped in horror. Jason took a staggering step back, before he raised his gun again. His voice coming out harsh, and it left him feel it was disembodied from him. “Move kid!”

The boy didn’t budge, even as he shook so badly it looked he would fall apart with it.

“Please” the boy begged. “Don’t kill him”

Jason gritted his teeth. “Evil can’t be cured, kid.”

“This isn’t you, Robin. You used to be good.” The kid said with a conviction that Jason hadn’t heard in a while. “Now you’re the bad guy. Whatever made you Red Robin, killing Two-Face won’t change it.”

 _The bad guy_. What had his life come down to that he was currently pointing a loaded gun towards a kid who hadn’t even entered his teens? Was this what Dick and Barbara had tried to warn him about? He could see his father. Willis. Pointing a gun to his mother. Could see the Joker with that bloodied crowbar. Is this what Jason had turned into? Two-Face’s words played on repeat in his head. _Let you live with what you are._

Shaking, Jason lowered the gun. How does one kill a monster without becoming one? He dropped the gun completely and took a couple of stumbling steps back from the kid still staring him down. Jason was no better than the Joker after all. He brought a hand to his face, only realizing too late that it was still covered with the blood from one of the goons. He felt the cold of it against his cheek. The disgust caused nausea to rise in his stomach, but then suddenly a motion caught his eyes.

Two-Face was stirring, an arm reaching out to grab at the kid. Jason dove forward on pure reflex, wrapping his arms around Tim and twisting them into a roll. Once the kid was out of harm’s way Jason turned back to knock Two-Face out again, using his fist and nothing more.

Jason could hear the heavy trample of boots as the taskforce moved into the mall. His first thought was that they were late. Jason needed to get out, but first he should probably make sure the kid was fine. He turned his attention back to the kid, he was still shaking but not as bad as before.

“You okay?” he asked, and the boy nodded briefly, before his eyes shifted towards the people in full gear welling into the open space.

“You need to go!” the kid urged, and in a daring move he reached out and pushed Jason as if that would put him in motion faster. Jason quirked a lip, the kid had guts he had to admit it. Then with a glance over his shoulder, Jason took out his grappling gun and aimed it towards the roof. Soon enough he was soaring through the air. Feeling lighter than he had since Batman first made him Robin.


End file.
